The Computer Wore Short Shorts
by TheScarletOctopus
Summary: Cat's sick and tired of being called "ditzy", so when Robbie invents a learning machine, she's happy to try it. Little does she know that it will raise her IQ beyond measure-and make her the target of international spies in the process.
1. Accidents Will Happen

**A/N: What can I say? I was bored.**

**Disclaimer: As ever, don't own.**

"So? What do you guys think?" asked a beaming Robbie, as he held out a hand toward his science project like a model on _The Price is Right_.

"I think it makes that car-battery-phone charger you made for Vega look like a model of elegance and simplicity."

"Jade! Be nice!" But even as Tori spoke, she silently admitted that the Goth girl had a point. The monstrosity, which Robbie had apparently dubbed the "Informatron", was indeed a jumbled mess of wireless routers, antennae, cannibalized cell phone parts, and black boxes connected by cables whose purpose Tori couldn't begin to imagine.

"It's fine, Tori." Robbie looked meaningfully at Jade. "Scientific breakthroughs _always_ evoke scorn from the unenlightened."

Jade lunged forward and grabbed him by the shirt front. "I swear to God, Shapiro, I'm going to wipe that smug smile off your face with my _fist_ if you keep talking like that-"

"Look, I don't wanna be rude," Andre cut in, "but could you hurry this up, Rob? I could be at the beach right now!"

The others nodded in hearty agreement. Here they were, in the school gymnasium on a Saturday morning, a sweltering day – 103 in the shade – all to see Robbie's latest crackpot invention. And just to put the icing on the proverbial cake, Hollywood Arts' air conditioning system had broken down.

"Hey, Sinj!" Beck called toward the ceiling. "Having any luck up there?"

Sinjin's voice, muffled by layers of metal and insulation, came down from the ventilation shaft. "I've almost got it. Just some faulty wiring, it looks like."

"So, Robbie, tell us some more about your – whatchamacallit – Infingatron?"

"In_form_atron." Robbie smiled at Cat. "Basically, it's designed to download information from the Internet directly into the human brain. This little doodad – " he held up what looked like a tiny tic-tac-toe grid at the end of a long, thin wire – "generates a low-wattage electromagnetic pulse that syncs up brain waves with the processing activity of the computer core, then establishes the equivalent of a LAN so that files can be uploaded to-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. It makes you a brainiac. Gotcha." Jade turned on her heel. "Later, suckers. I've got a date with some ocean waves."

"But…don't you want to see a demonstration?" Robbie stammered.

"Oh, please. You know that thing will never work. It'll probably just fry the brain of whatever poor sap you enlist as a test subject-"

"I'll do it!" Cat cried.

Everyone stared at her.

"You sure, baby?" Robbie looked at her warily.

"Heck yeah I'm sure." She added, softly: "I just want to be smart for a change, you know?"

"Oh, Cat, sweetheart. Don't let the name-calling get to you. You're intelligent, and wonderful, and-"

"Robbie." She raised a hand to halt him. "I appreciate it. I really do. But I want to try this. I _need_ to try this."

"…Okay," he said doubtfully. "But I'm going to start you off slow." He pressed the little grid against her temple and fixed it in place with a bit of tape. "Maybe a few Wikipedia entries."

He tapped on his PearPad, and the great machine began to hum. Cat's eyes opened wide; her pupils dilated. "I can feel it," she whispered. "The knowledge flowing into me. _Angola. Population: 18,498,000. Capital: Luanda. Official language: Portuguese…_"

A yell came from the ventilation shaft: "Oh, _shit_!" It was followed immediately by a loud crackle, and the acrid scent of burning rubber; the lights flashed on and off wildly. Cat began to shake violently, her limbs flailing about; the machine whined and arced with sparks.

"Shut it off!" Jade screamed. Beck and Andre dived for the outlet and wrested out the cord. As the lights came back on, this time for good, Cat collapsed in a heap.

A panel in the ceiling slid open, and Sinjin thrust his head out. His hair was even frizzier than usual, and his face blackened by smoke. "Oh, geez, I'm so sorry. There was a short circuit, and something caught fire – I think it's out now…"

He stopped as he realized no one was paying attention. The little group of friends were clustered around Cat – Beck administering CPR, while Jade and Tori held Cat's hands tightly in theirs and Robbie stroked her hair, weeping. "It's all my fault. Why did I let her try it? What have I done?"

For a few heartbreaking moments, there was nothing. Then: "Huuuuh!" Cat inhaled sharply as her eyes snapped open. "Wha-what happened? Where am I?"

Tears of joy streaked Jade's face, her shield of cynicism momentarily gone. "You're in the gym, kitty cat. There was an accident. How are you feeling?"

"A bit out of sorts, but nothing that time won't heal, I should think."

Cat's friends stared at her in puzzlement. "Um…are you okay?" Tori slowly asked.

"As okay as one _can_ be after such a shock." Cat giggled. "Dear me. It reminds me of the sort of accidents that were wont to occur during the tiff between Thomas Edison and Nikola Tesla over direct versus alternating current."

Jade went goggle-eyed. "Robbie? If your little machine screwed up Cat's mind, you are absolutely freaking _dead_."

Now it was Cat's turn to appear baffled. " 'Screwed up'? On the contrary. That serendipitous power surge seems to have downloaded all the contents of the Internet into my cerebral cortex at once – and not only that, but it would appear that my neural network has been restructured to accommodate the massive influx of data."

"That's…that's amazing," Robbie whispered.

"Why, yes, I know," replied Cat with a wry smile. "In fact, my dear Robbie, I know _everything_."

She looked around at her speechless friends, all of them still as statues.

"And now that matters have been made clear, I could really do with some Bibble."


	2. Center of Attention

**A/N: A special shout-out to the first person who can identify the movie that the title of this story refers to. (Hint: it's well before your time. Heck, it's well before **_**my **_**time, and I'm a lot older than most of you.)**

**Also, I don't know whether anyone much cares, but I'm planning to resume "Ye Ice-Falls" sometime soon. "Sorrows and Joys", on the other hand, is on hiatus until such time as I figure out a way to make it not suck so much.**

**Disclaimer: As ever, don't own.**

_One week later_

Suzanne Goggins, erstwhile history teacher at Hollywood Arts, looked out over her class with a barely suppressed sigh. She was trying her best to explain the causes of the Civil War, but, as usual, most of her students were paying her only the bare minimum of attention, the rest of their minds lost in dreams of platinum records and stars on the Walk of Fame. Only two faces stared unwaveringly at Suzanne: Gunther, the new exchange student who seemed to take a keen interest in everything that went on around him, and – amazingly enough – Caterina Valentine. Normally a bundle of irrational energy, today she was almost supernaturally focused. Suzanne swore she could see flashes of lightning sparking behind the young redhead's corneas, as if the activity of her brain were so intense that it was bleeding over into her facial expression… no. That was ridiculous.

Suzanne forced herself to turn back to the blackboard. "So, as you can see, the anti-slavery North and pro-slavery South were bound to come in conflict after the election of Abraham Lincoln in 1860. Any questions so far?"

Cat's hand shot up.

"Look, Cat, we really don't have time to hear another story about your brother."

The redhead's face darkened. "This isn't about my brother, ma'am. Nor does it have anything to do with candy or SkyStore, in case you were wondering."

"All right." Suzanne's curiosity was piqued. "What is it?"

"I don't mean to be rude, but – don't you think that explanation is a bit facile?"

The teacher stared at her, uncomprehending. She had never imagined that Cat even had such words in her vocabulary. "I beg your pardon?"

"That is – while sentiment over slavery was certainly divided in antebellum America, it would be awfully remiss to neglect economic factors as a motivation for civil discord. The agriculturally based South resented and feared the greater wealth of the industrialized North, seeing it as a threat to plantation society."

"I…wha? That's not in the textbook…"

Cat ignored her and continued with her rush of words. "Not to mention that it's something of an exaggeration to call the North 'anti-slavery'. Abolitionist sentiment was very much in the minority, and concentrated largely in New England. The Midwest, on the other hand, was so full of Southern sympathizers that, once open war broke out, so-called 'Copperhead' societies were formed in Indiana and Ohio that were devoted to sabotaging the Union war effort."

"I…I don't…where did you learn all this? Who _are_ you? And what have you done with Cat Valentine?"

Cat raised an eyebrow. "I'm still the same person I've always been, ma'am. Just a little…enhanced." Her face suddenly brightened again. "Oh, while I'm thinking of it – would you like to see the miniature black hole that Mr. Longneck and I made?"

Suzanne snorted in disbelief. This must be a dream. Or had she fallen through the looking glass at last? Had years of teaching disaffected prima donnas finally driven her to madness? "Cat, the finest minds in the _world_ don't fully understand how black holes function. Do you expect me to believe that a seventeen-year-old girl and a _stuffed giraffe_ managed to create…oh, dear God."

With a Cheshire cat smile, Cat held out a cubic metal frame, enclosed on every side with magnetic fields. Within it, a tiny, swirling pool of darkness sucked light into its greedy center and devoured it whole.

"It was a lot trickier than I thought – Mr. Longneck and I had to spend a whole _evening_ on the quantum mechanical calculations alone!"

Suzanne's face went deadly pale.

"Your blood sugar looks dangerously low," remarked a worried Cat, reaching into her bra. "How about some licorice?"

"I…this…it doesn't…I can't…EEEEEAAAAGH!" Suzanne threw her lesson plan in the air, dropped her chalk, ran out the door, hurried to the parking lot, leapt into her convertible, and sped off homeward, shrieking like a banshee the whole way.

"Nice goin', Cat," said Rex. "You broke the teacher's brain."

"Oh, dear. I suppose my newfound intelligence _can_ be a touch off-putting. Isn't that right, Mr. Longneck?" She waved the giraffe, now wearing a tiny lab coat, about in the air and said in a comically deep voice, "It certainly is, Miss Valentine!"

One by one, the uneasy students slid from their desks and filed out, all of them eyeing the tiny tear in the fabric of space-time lest it escape its containment field and begin to collapse the entire room into an infinitely dense singularity. Only Gunther and Robbie remained behind.

"Um, Cat?" The young ventriloquist's hands were shaking, though he desperately tried to hide it. "Maybe you should…I don't know…shut that thing down?"

"Oh, you silly-billy. It _can't _be shut down!"

"Uh-oh…"

"What do you _mean,_ 'uh-oh'? That's the beautiful thing about it! Once I figure out how to tap into the power differential around the event horizon, this little beauty will provide the world with an infinite source of free energy!"

With a thoughtful look on his face, Gunther slipped away, taking care not to be noticed by Cat and Robbie. Once in the hall, he looked to his left, then to his right – no one in sight. Quickly he ducked into the supply closet, shut the door behind him, and pressed a tiny button on the underside of his watch. The digital display faded out, and a television picture crackled into view: a shadowy figure seated at a desk.

"This is Operative Gamma," Gunther whispered. "I've stumbled across something that may be of interest to our organization."

"Shall I send backup?" The figure's voice was electronically distorted; it was standard protocol in the organization that controllers' identities were kept a secret even from the field agents under their command.

"At once, please."

Gunther thought for a moment, then added:

"And, if possible, select personnel with special expertise in abduction and interrogation. There's a girl here who should have some interesting things to tell us, once we…_persuade_ her properly."


	3. Under Cover of Night

**A/N: Irishfan62 was the first to get the title reference – congrats.**

**Also, a couple of reviewers have pointed out the similarities between this story and **_**Chuck**_**. I hadn't intended that when I started, but hey, what the heck – **_**Chuck**_** was a darned good show.**

**Disclaimer: As ever, don't own.**

"Robbie, dear, don't you want to finish your Brussels sprouts?"

"No time, Mom." As he fished in his pocket for his keys, Robbie cast a sidelong glance at the grandfather clock in the hall. 9:05. Cat would already be done with rehearsals by now, and here he was, failing to keep his promise that he would pick her up on time. One of these days she was going to get fed up with his unreliability and dump him – he could just sense it.

At last he found his keys and hurried to the driveway – then pulled up short. "Crap."

All four of his tires were flat. **All four.** _Damn it, universe, why do you hate me so much?_

With a heavy hand, he pulled out his PearPhone and dialed. "Cat, sweetheart? I'm so, so sorry, but I can't come get you."

Her voice lost none of its usual cheeriness at the news. "Not a problem, Robbie."

"Please tell me you're not going to walk home. Not at night. It's too dangerous-"

"I'm aware of the crime rate in Los Angeles, you know," she answered wryly. "Anyway, Gunther's already been kind enough to offer me a ride."

"G-Gunther?" The hair on the back of Robbie's neck bristled. He had never liked that suave, slick exchange student, and he had always suspected that Gunther had his eye on Cat. But what was there to be done? He couldn't very well ask Cat to turn the offer down and leave herself stranded at school. "I see. Tell him-" He swallowed hard and forced the unpleasant words out. "-Tell him I'm really grateful to him for taking you home."

"Why, Robert Jacob Shapiro. Is that a hint of_ jealousy_ I detect in your voice?"

"Jealousy? Don't be silly." Sweat dripped down his forehead.

Cat giggled. "Frankly, I think it's sweet. And, for the record? Gunther's not my type."

"Oh, thank you, God," he whispered.

"What was that?"

"No-nothing. Take care, babe. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night, Robbie."

As Robbie hung up, he pondered what could have caused the flats. The driveway and the street beyond were clean – no glass, no metal that he could see. And he had felt no bumps in the road driving home. It didn't make sense.

He went back in and fetched a flashlight, then returned to the driveway and got down on all fours to examine the tires. At first, he could spot nothing. Then, hidden deep within one of the treads of the right rear tire, a small piece of steel glinted in the flashlight's beam. Robbie reached carefully over, tugged at it, and at last worked it free. It was a small double spike, perfectly shaped and free of rust – brand new, in fact. He checked the other tires and found three more.

_There's no way this could have happened by accident,_ he thought. _Somebody __**sabotaged **__my car. But why would anybody go to the trouble of messing with this old hunk of junk, unless-_

_Unless they wanted to stop me from picking up Cat._

_Oh, no._

His hand immediately went to his phone again – and at the same moment, something heavy struck him across the back of the head. The night sky whirled around him and an explosion of pain shot through his skull.

He toppled face forward to the ground. As he lost consciousness, he felt himself being seized by the ankles and dragged into the nearby bushes.

/

The young man who was currently known as Gunther smiled as he and Cat made their way through the dark parking lot. "I thought you did an excellent job this evening."

"Thanks. I found the part of Desdemona to be far more challenging in practice than it had looked on paper. You were a splendid Iago, by the way. You've got quite a knack for acting."

"Not really – I've just had plenty of practice." _More than you can ever imagine, my dear Caterina._

Surreptitiously he studied the parking lot and the buildings across the street. _Where the hell is the backup I was promised?_

_Oh, come on, Gamma, you ridiculous coward – you can subdue a ninety-pound girl by yourself._

He dropped back a step and flexed his fingers, preparing to seize her from behind.

Without even looking toward him, Cat said, in as chipper a tone as ever, "So, you're planning to abduct me then, are you?"

He was so startled that he could do nothing but laugh. "You've got quite the sense of humor, Cat."

At last she turned toward him, her lips curled in a smile, but a steely look in her eyes. "I'm not joking, Gunther – if that is your real name. I imagine it isn't. After all, your attempt at feigning a German accent is hit-or-miss at best."

"Why – why would you think that I would try to-"

"You parked as far from the school as possible, in a spot distant from any streetlight, even though the lot is all but empty and you could have parked anywhere. You're constantly examining your surroundings, which suggests you're an experienced tactician. And there's a faint but unmistakable scent of chloroform coming from the handkerchief in your back pocket, which you failed utterly to mask with the cheap cologne you're wearing for the first time ever."

His face contorted into an involuntary snarl. "You know, kitty cat, there really is such a thing as 'Too smart for your own good'."

He threw a lightning-swift punch at her solar plexus – and she sidestepped, caught his arm in mid-motion, and flipped him over on his back. As he scrambled to his feet, Cat dropped down and swept his legs from under him, then as he fell once again she unleashed an elbow strike that caught him directly in the larynx. The pain was agonizing, and was instantly doubled when the little redhead administered a surgically precise kick to his exposed groin.

As Gunther curled into a fetal position and gasped for breath, Cat calmly remarked, "The human body is really an assemblage of simple machines, all of them bound by the laws of physics and the mathematics of vector motion. Once you understand that fact, martial arts become a simple matter-aagh!"

The spy looked up to see a tranquilizer dart protruding from Cat's neck. As he watched, another struck her between the shoulder blades, then a third in the right bicep. She swayed, moaned, and collapsed in a heap.

A few moments later, a tall, muscular figure holding an air rifle emerged from the shadows. As he extended a hand to Gunther to help him up, the prostrate spy recognized the newcomer's face and groaned.

"Psi. It _would _have to be you."

"Well, you _did_ ask for an enhanced interrogation specialist."

Gunther got unsteadily to his feet. "You know, you could have taken action a little earlier."

"What, and miss the chance to see you beaten senseless by a tiny little girl? Not for all the tea in China. If only I had had my camera with me…"

"Spare me the snark." Gunther looked down at the unconscious Cat. "Do you think you can get anything out of her?"

The agent codenamed Psi chuckled. "Oh, I suspect I can. She's obviously tougher than she looks – but everyone, no matter how strong, has a breaking point. It's only a matter of finding it."

Without exchanging any further words, the two men bundled Cat into the trunk of Gunther's car and sped off into the darkness.


	4. Q and A

**A/N: Thanks to my reviewers; feedback is always most welcome.**

**Disclaimer: As ever, don't own.**

Robbie slowly returned to consciousness, crawled out from the bushes, and put a tentative hand to the back of his head. When he looked at his fingers in the pale moonlight, they were covered with bright, sticky blood. _How long have I been out?_ he thought groggily. He checked his wristwatch: 11:15 P.M.

A single unspoken word cut through his confusion like a surgeon's knife: _**Cat!**_

He wobbled to his feet and searched about for his phone, only to find it smashed to bits on the ground. _They __**really **__didn't want me to warn her – whoever 'they' are._

But he would not be thwarted – not when his precious Cat might be in danger. He barged into the house, not caring whether he woke his parents with the slam of the front door, and grabbed the receiver from its wall cradle, then dialed the first number that sprang into his still reeling brain.

"Jade?"

He was greeted with a burst of profanity, and held the phone away from his ear until it died down.

"Yeah, yeah, I know what time it is. But listen – Cat's in danger."

Those three words were enough to make the Goth girl fall silent instantly.

Robbie explained the situation as quickly as he could. "Call the others. Tell them to rendezvous at my place."

"Right. But what do we do then?" The anxiety in her voice was palpable. "We've got no idea where to start looking."

"Oh, I think we've got a starting place," he replied through gritted teeth. "A certain son of a bitch named Gunther Stantz."

/

_Oh, God, the light…_

The light was everywhere. Ferocious beams flooded the white room from every angle, searing through Cat's half-open eyes and burning themselves into her retina. She wriggled in discomfort, but the straps holding her wrists and ankles to the chair allowed her little range of movement.

A blurry figure stood silhouetted against the glare. "Wakey wakey, little pussycat."

"Let me guess," she said with difficulty, her lips and tongue still numb from the tranquilizer's effects. "You're here to interrogate me?"

"You're just as perceptive as Gamma said."

"Gamma…that would be 'Gunther'?"

"That's his handle for the moment, yes. I have no idea what his _real_ name is – security protocols, you know. Hell, with all the aliases he's been through over the years, _he _probably can't remember his real name."

"Quite a busy life for someone who's only a senior in high school – or is he older than he looks?"

"Oh, you have no idea," the man called Psi said with a chuckle. "But enough about my none-too-competent comrade. Right now, it's all about you, Caterina."

"Only my grandmother calls me that."

"Is that so? Well, no worries. By the time I'm through with you, you'll be spilling secrets even your grandma would never be privy to."

Cat shut her eyes against the agonizing light. "Tsk, tsk, tsk," said Psi. "That'll never do." With powerful fingers he forced her eyelids open, then fixed them in place with small pieces of electrical tape.

"Very _Clockwork Orange_," said Cat. "You're not the most original torturer in the world, are you?"

"Hey, I go with what works," he replied, seemingly unruffled. "The important thing, my dear, is that you not be allowed to doze off while we're having our little…session." Suddenly the playfulness vanished from his voice. "No sleep. No food. No water. _No mercy._ Not until you tell me what I want to know."

"And that is?"

"Well, for starters, my employers are very intrigued by that miniature black hole you somehow devised. The prospect of infinite energy is a great one – as long as the secret is in the right hands."

Cat snorted derisively. "Somehow, I don't think that your hands are the 'right' ones."

"But you don't know the whole story." He leaned over her, so close that she could smell the tobacco on his breath. She saw that he was wearing a surgical mask. "My employers are very much like you, Caterina. Their minds are as far beyond ordinary men's as ordinary men's are beyond Labrador retrievers. It is their right – no, their _duty_ – to rule those inferior to themselves. The truth is, you belong at their side."

"Thanks but no thanks," she answered curtly. "I'm only interested in helping mankind, not ruling it."

Psi sighed. "I expected as much. Gamma warned me that you're afflicted with that troublesome disease known as 'morality'. But, like all diseases, it can be cured." He bent even closer. "And lucky for you, there's a doctor in the house."

Cat's mind, meanwhile, was performing calculations at an unimaginable speed. _Keep him staring into your face. It means he can't see your hands. And these straps were built to hold people much larger than you. You can get out – but it's going to hurt._

"What's with the mask?" she asked, quietly twisting her right wrist at an unnatural angle. "Afraid to let me see your face?"

"It's just for security's sake, that's all."

"But you're either going to succeed in breaking me down and get me on your side, or you're going to kill me. Either way, there's no point in disguising yourself." _Almost there. But the next step is going to make some noise. Need to find a way to cover it up. _"Why don't you just take the damn thing off?"

He chuckled. "As you wish."

The moment he slipped off the mask, Cat screamed, "Oh, my God! Your face! It's hideous!" And so loud was her cry that Psi, enraged at the insult, failed to hear the snap as she successfully dislocated her wrist.

"Okay, just for that, little girl, I'm going to skip the warm-up and go straight to making you _bleed_." He turned to a tray of surgical instruments and selected a scalpel. Seizing the opportunity, Cat surreptitiously drew her hand out from the strap. _Only going to get one shot at this – better make it count._

"It's such a pretty face you have. Shall we change that?" He pressed the scalpel against her cheek.

"RrrrAGH!" Ignoring the pain, Cat cupped her free hand and slammed it into Psi's ear, then quickly pulled it away. The vacuum it created nearly ruptured the torturer's eardrum. He howled in agony, and the scalpel fell from his fingers – right into Cat's waiting left hand. With a deft movement, she cut the strap; then, before Psi could fully recover, she swung the scalpel across his mouth, slicing a clean line from his chin to the opposite cheek.

He lurched backward with his hands to his face. Cat freed her feet and made for the door, but despite his wounds, Psi was quicker, and seized her around the midsection. She swung her head backward and slammed it into his jaw; he released his grip, and Cat spun, then delivered another blow to the jaw, this time with the heel of her palm. The torturer fell, sprawled across the chair, and did not move.

_I hope I didn't kill him,_ she thought as she studied the door lock. It was a simple alphanumeric keypad, posing no difficulty for her newfound technological wizardry, and in a few moments the door slid open. Cat thrust her head into the corridor – no guards in sight. That was the good news; but the bad news, as she realized with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, was that she had no idea where she was in the complex, how to reach the exit, nor, indeed, how to get home once she did make it out. For all she knew, this facility might be somewhere deep in the desert.

But no matter. She was resourceful; she would find a way.

_Whatever it takes, I'm going to make it home._

_I'm going to see my friends again._


	5. Cut and Run

**A/N: I'm not entirely satisfied with this, but I wanted to update.**

**Also, in answer to the reviewer who asked where I get all the "smarty pants" stuff: I do watch **_**The Big Bang Theory**_** occasionally, but mostly I just make it up as I go along.**

**Disclaimer: As ever, don't own.**

As the sluggish sun dispelled the grayness from the pre-dawn sky, Lane Alexander hummed softly to himself and prepared one last breakfast for his soon-to-be-departing houseguest. He would miss Gunther Stantz; true, the boy was secretive and a bit standoffish, but he was also wise beyond his years, and could talk intelligently on any subject from international macroeconomics to the NFL draft. Not to mention that Gunther was impeccably neat, never leaving so much as a scrap of trash in his room, wiping clean everything he touched with an almost maid-like thoroughness. All in all, Lane was glad he had volunteered to host the boy during his semester at Hollywood Arts.

There was still a month to go in the semester, but Gunther's mother in Heidelberg had apparently been taken seriously ill, and the boy was naturally anxious to go and see her. He was booked on a 9 A.M. flight, but Lane insisted that he not leave until he had eaten the guidance counselor's famed blueberry muffins.

Soft sounds from upstairs told Lane that the boy was packing. He ascended the staircase slowly, carefully balancing a tray of muffins, orange juice and hot coffee, then pushed open the door to the guest room with his shoulder.

"Breakfast time! Now, eat up-"

Lane stopped. A Turkish passport lay atop Gunther's suitcase. The boy snatched it and jammed it into his pocket, but it was too late – the guidance counselor had already spotted it.

"Gunther, I don't understand. What do you need that for? Aren't you going to Germany?"

Gunther's lips curled into a frown. He shook his head slowly. "Lane, Lane, Lane. I'm _so_ sorry. I had hoped that we could part on good terms, but – well, now that's not going to be possible."

"What…what do you mean?"

"At the risk of sounding clichéd, my friend – you know too much." Gunther snapped open a tiny compartment on the side of his watch face, pulled out a length of steel wire, and lunged for Lane's neck.

The guidance counselor cried out and hurled the cup of coffee into the exchange student's face. Gunther howled in pain and stumbled, giving Lane just enough time to drop the tray and sprint downstairs.

Already the German was up again. He leapt like a gazelle and cut Lane off from the front door, forcing him to make for the back door instead.

The scrub grass gashed Lane's bare feet as he headed for the gate, which seemed, in his panic, to be a thousand miles away. Gunther's pounding footsteps were right behind him.

Lane's fingers had just touched the gate latch when cold, thin steel was drawn around his throat. Standing behind him, Gunther pulled back with remorseless strength, cutting off the flow of oxygen. Lane gasped, clawed, kicked back, but all to no avail. Blackness encroached on the edges of his vision.

The gate was kicked open, sending both Lane and Gunther sprawling backwards. The garrote came loose, and Lane sucked in precious breath.

As he lay in the dirt, staring into the purple-dyed clouds, a flurry of punches and kicks split the air behind him. He could hear the grunts and yells of two combatants – one of them Gunther, the other female. At last there was a tremendous "KIAI!", and Gunther toppled, blood gushing from his nose, next to Lane.

The guidance counselor stood, turned; smiled.

Never in his life had he been so glad to see Trina Vega.

A moment later, Robbie, Tori, Jade, Beck and Andre appeared through the gate as well. To Lane's amazement, it was Robbie – shy, gentle Robbie – who howled in rage and delivered a powerful kick to the prostrate Gunther's ribs, fracturing one of them with an audible crack. "You bastard, what have you done with Cat?"

"You don't - *cough* - don't really think that I'll - *cough* - ever tell you, do you?" sneered the exchange student.

"He kidnapped Cat?" asked an aghast Lane.

_Wait a minute…that passport…_

"Don't worry, kids. I think I can help point you where to go." The guidance counselor looked down at Gunther. "Oh, and just for the record? I've changed my mind. You were a _terrible_ houseguest."

/

"Stop her! Don't let her get out!"

A burst of machine gun fire narrowly missed Cat as she dived into a wall niche for cover. She paused a moment, then ran, head down, back into the corridor, drawing angry shouts from the squadron of black-shirted goons who were pursuing her.

It was cruel. The closer she got to freedom – she could see daylight through the windows up ahead – the more thugs appeared to block her path. So far she had managed to evade them through her small size and great agility, but it was only a matter of time before she was overwhelmed by numbers.

_Time to think outside the box._

Cat pressed herself into a doorway and glanced up at the ceiling. Her eyes met row upon row of sprinklers. _Okay, they're obviously very worried about fire suppression here, for whatever reason. That means there's probably a fire alarm. So…_

She drew a packet of Bibble from her pants pocket, stuck two pieces into her mouth, and chewed frantically until they were reduced to soggy wads, then spat them into her palm and jammed them into her ears. _Gross – but it'll have to do. Now, to get their attention…_

"Hey! Over here, bozos!" she cried as she stuck her head out of the doorway and waved both arms high in the air.

The goons leveled their weapons at her, and, in the span of a split second, her mind ran through their various positions and firing angles. All motion seemed to halt in her mind's eye, reduced to an intricate network of vectors and statistical probabilities, all of which pointed to one conclusion:

_Wait 0.27 seconds, then – __**JUMP RIGHT!**_

She did; and, just as calculated, the spray of bullets aimed at her instead struck the nearest sprinkler head. A high-pitched alarm began to squeal throughout the complex; the lights dimmed, then flashed red.

As the soldiers winced and covered their ears, Cat, protected by her makeshift earplugs, squeezed into another doorway, pulled the cover from the keypad that served as a lock, and swapped a series of wires and circuits. The alarm increased in intensity thanks to her machinations, until it was a deafening scream that tore through the eardrums and made rational thought or movement impossible for everyone but Cat – and even she, despite her ear protection, was made dizzy. Nonetheless she managed to resume her sprint; turned a corner; found a great double door around whose edges sunlight poured in. Not even bothering with the lock this time, she thrust her tiny hands into the crack between the doors and shoved them apart with all the strength her muscles could muster, then slipped through just before they slid together again.

She blinked and raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun.

She stood upon a high, rocky plateau, surrounded by low hills that were bare save for occasional patches of grass and a few stunted trees. Far below, in a valley split in two by a narrow, meandering river, goats grazed under the watchful eye of their herders.

_This isn't California – this isn't even the United States._

_Where in God's name __**am**__ I?_


	6. Turkish Delight

**Disclaimer: As ever, don't own.**

As Cat crawled down the slope inch by painful inch, she found herself wishing that she had the claws of her namesake – not to mention the balance. The dirt was treacherous, seeming solid enough to provide handholds yet often crumbling and running between her scrabbling fingers the moment she shifted her weight. As of yet she had seen no signs of pursuit – all around her was quiet, save for the soft wind and the bleating of goats far below.

At last, muscles aching ferociously, she let herself down onto a little ledge that jutted out from the side of the plateau and looked upward. The facility in which she had been held loomed up above, a cold, impersonal edifice of steel and reflective glass, all right angles and jutting corners. Atop its main entrance was a brightly painted sign:

**OTOMOBIL FABRIKA**

Cat shut her eyes a moment and concentrated. Dictionaries for hundreds of languages were stored in her voluminous memory, kept locked away so as not to overwhelm her conscious mind; now she lifted the floodgates, and they poured into her thoughts. One by one she sifted through them until she found a match:

_**Car Factory**_

_Okay, I'm in Turkey._

She shut the other dictionaries away once again and summoned forth Turkish grammar books, phrasebooks, maps and atlases, cultural guides, gave them free rein to whirl through her cerebral cortex. Fifteen seconds later she opened her eyes.

"Hazırım." _I'm ready._

She resumed the slow, agonizing climb downward. On the ground below a she-goat stared up at the small, red-haired creature with mild curiosity, then resumed chewing crabgrass. Bees droned, circling sparse purple flowers in the hope of nectar; cirrus clouds drifted lazily across the sky.

Then there was a crackle of gunfire.

The she-goat bolted in panic; her comrades followed in short order. Their herder, a boy of no more than sixteen, chased them on horseback, terrified by the rifle fire from the mountain but nonetheless determined not to lose sight of his charges. The bees fled in a swarm.

A squadron of the black-shirted soldiers – Cat could not see their faces – were rappelling down the plateau face in quick time. Close to the bottom though she was, it was painfully apparent that they were going to have little difficulty outracing her, especially as one of their number paused every few seconds to keep Cat pinned in blaze with a quick burst of bullets.

There was only one thing to do.

The moment she was low enough to be reasonably certain that she wouldn't break her neck, Cat let go of the rock and tumbled downward. Rolling over and over, dirt clogging her nostrils and stinging her eyes, her ribs bruised and battered, she said a silent prayer to every deity she could think of to let her survive.

At last she came to rest on solid earth – with the bulk of her body right atop her dislocated wrist. She unleashed a stream of mixed English and Turkish profanities, paused an instant to let the rush of adrenaline from her fight-or-flight response dull the pain, then took off, heading for the dirt road that led southward to a small city whose skyline was barely visible in the hazy distance.

A quick glance backward told her that her pursuers were catching up. The point man waved to his comrades to fan out and outflank Cat on both sides.

_If they cut me off before I reach civilization, I'm done for._ She drew upon every last drop of energy she had left; but her legs were short, her body weary, and these men were obviously professionals – hardened mercenaries, she guessed – who showed no signs of tiring.

A wave of despair flooded her. _I tried. I tried so __**hard.**__ And for nothing. I'm going to die here, in the middle of nowhere, and none of my friends will ever know what happened to me. Not even Robbie._

Something was moving toward her. She blinked, uncertain whether it was a mirage. No – it was real. A pickup truck. As it drew closer, she could make out the face of the driver; his expression changed from irritation at the strange girl blocking the road to astonishment and horror at the sight of her armed pursuers.

A scene from _North by Northwest_ flashed into Cat's mind. _Desperate times call for desperate measures, I guess._

She leapt directly in front of the oncoming truck, then threw herself to the ground as the driver stomped on the brakes, his front bumper coming within inches of her prostrate form.

_And here I thought that having all those damn YouTube clips downloaded into my brain was just a waste of memory space._

The driver leapt out and pulled her to her feet. "What are you doing, you idiot? You could have been killed!"

"Please, help me. My life is in danger."

He stared wide-eyed at her, trying to understand how this obviously American girl could speak grammatically correct Turkish – but there was little time to ponder the mystery. A burst of gunfire tore through the grass only a few meters away.

"All right, all right – get in!"

The instant she had clambered into the truck's cab – before she had time even to close the door – the man pulled a sharp 180-degree turn, kicking up great clouds of dust, and drove as quickly as the aging vehicle could manage toward the town.

"Oh, may Allah bless you," said Cat as her frustrated pursuers receded into the distance. "I thought I was finished back there."

"You're just lucky I came to check up on my goats," replied the man. "My ranch-hand Mehmet was in town for lunch, and he mentioned that one of the kids was suffering from stomach cramps and vomiting, so I came to see whether it had eaten any poisonous weeds."

_I was saved by a __**vomiting goat?**_ thought Cat. And, as she turned the thought over in her mind, it mixed with her relief at her unexpected salvation to produce laughter – at first just a chuckle, then a sustained guffaw, and finally uproarious, belly-shaking howls of laughter that all but took her breath away.

As the ancient truck wheezed and sputtered to a stop outside the city hall, the driver stared at this bizarre, tiny Turkish-speaking American who seemed to regard being shot at and nearly run over as the funniest thing imaginable.

_Maybe it wasn't just the goats that ate poisonous weeds,_ he thought.

/

"Um, you guys do realize this is crazy, right?" asked Andre as the group of Hollywood Arts students collected their suitcases at the Antalya airport baggage claim. "Shouldn't we have just called, I don't know, the FBI or Interpol or somebody, instead of flying halfway around the world?"

"We don't know who we can trust," Jade pointed out. "And seeing as how Lane was kind enough to let us skip school for a week after we saved his life, I have no intention of just sitting on my hands while Cat might be in horrible danger."

"Um, Robbie?" Tori tapped the young ventriloquist gently on the shoulder. "How are you doing?"

He hadn't spoken once during the entire ten-hour flight, and his friends were beginning to worry about his mental health. For the first time ever, he hadn't even bothered to bring Rex with him.

Tori went on. "It was, um, really great work you did, hacking into those airline records and finding out what city in Turkey Gunther was flying to. You're pretty darn amazing, you know that?"

Still he said nothing. Tori exchanged a worried look with Jade.

"Hey, Shapiro," the Goth girl said as she squeezed his hand. "We're going to find her. You know that, right?"

Without turning his head to look at her, Robbie said softly, "Yeah. And then I'm going to find the guys responsible for all this, and I'm going to make them _suffer_."

"That's not what we're here for, Rob," Beck said gently. "And besides, Cat wouldn't want you to turn into some kind of soulless vengeance-seeking machine."

Robbie did not reply, but simply stared straight ahead, his eyes fixed on something none of his friends could see.

"Look, first things first. Let's go find a hotel," said Andre as he hefted both Tori's luggage and his own in his powerful arms. "We need a base of operations so we can figure out our next move, right?"

"Good idea," Jade replied. "Come on, Robbie. Stewing in your own juices won't help Cat."

A still silent Robbie let her lead him by the elbow out of the airport, the others following. In the crush of tourists and businesspeople throughout the terminal, speaking French, German, Russian, Chinese and every other language under the sun, the little band failed entirely to notice the tall, muscular, sharply dressed man sitting nearby who watched them intently from behind a copy of the _H__ü__rriyet Daily News_.

Once they were gone, he lowered the paper and slowly rose. "You kids made a mistake, coming here," he muttered in English. "And now you're going to pay the price."

As he left the terminal, a few passersby could not help but stare in revulsion at his face – marked by a scar that ran all the way from his lower chin to his cheek.


	7. Stay or Go?

**A/N: To the reviewer who asked why I chose Turkey as the setting (or at least a setting) for this story: there are two reasons. The first is that I tend to include countries/places I've been to in my stories, and Turkey is one such (one of my favorite countries, as a matter of fact); as for the second reason, well – you'll just have to wait and see. Suffice it to say that the folks who've been making trouble for poor Cat didn't pick the location for their base at random.**

**Disclaimer: As ever, don't own.**

The morning call to prayer, broadcast over loudspeakers from a distant minaret, roused Cat from a sleep so deep and dreamless as to be not far removed from death. She stretched her still aching limbs carefully and turned her stiff neck from side to side; it appeared she was alone in the little bedroom.

Rousing herself, she followed the noise of squawking chickens into the front yard. The rancher's house opened onto the square of a tiny village a few kilometers north of the city of Kelainai. Her host – his name, he had told Cat just before she drifted off to sleep the evening before, was Akalp – was busy drawing water from a fountain made from a converted Roman-era stone sarcophagus; when he spotted Cat, he held up a hand in greeting. Across the dusty road, in the courtyard of the mosque-cum-school that was the centerpiece of village life, children played tag and called to one another in excited voices. It was a scene of almost idyllic beauty; for the first time since the terrible night of her abduction, Cat found herself smiling.

"How are you feeling?" asked Akalp as he approached with water bucket in hand.

"Much better, thank you. I am hungry, though – but I don't want to impose," she added hurriedly. "You've already been so kind."

"No need to thank me," replied the rancher in a gruff tone. "I could hardly leave you to die in the road, after all. Come on – my wife should have breakfast ready soon."

Behind his back, Cat's grin grew wider. She liked this man – he maintained a rough, distant exterior, but she could sense a core of compassion beneath it.

Then her grin swiftly faded. _What if I've put him and his family in danger just by being here?_

She hurried to catch up. "As soon as I've eaten, I'll be on my way. What's the easiest way to get to-" she scanned the atlas stored in her mind for the nearest large city with an international airport – "Antalya?"

"Train or bus from Kelainai." Then, more gently: "You need not feel obliged to run. If those men come seeking for you, there are places we can conceal you. I know these hills better than any man alive."

"I couldn't ask that of you. And besides – " despite herself, her voice quivered- "I really want to go home."

"Where _is_ your home?"

"California."

He raised his eyebrows. "How on Earth did you find yourself _here_, then?"

"It's…complicated." She paused. "What can you tell me about that…'automobile factory' where you found me?"

"Very little, I fear. It was only completed a few months ago. They refuse to hire local workers, and they keep to themselves. To tell the truth, I don't think they're making cars there at all."

"What makes you say that?"

His voice lowered; he looked swiftly from side to side to make sure they were unobserved. "One night – when I was unable to sleep – I went for a walk out into the hills, and…I saw a light. No ordinary light, either. No lamp cast it; it was as if it were made from the flickering of millions of fireflies, all gathered together in one great cloud. It hung around the factory and never moved. And there were sounds, too – a high-pitched whirring noise, like some great drill, and the clanging of steel on stone. I would have taken a closer look, but there were men circling the factory, with dogs and guns, and I was afraid to be seen."

Cat thought for a moment. Whatever these mysterious malefactors were up to, it must surely be related to her recent discovery. They needed energy, and lots of it- but for what end? One thing was sure – they mustn't be allowed to go through with their plans. If the mindset of her interrogator was any indication, their success would mean the end of freedom for mankind – maybe the end of mankind itself.

Two conflicting desires warred within her. She was lonely, no question about it; she missed her family, her friends, her school. As beautiful as this place was, it was foreign to her, and she to it. Home seemed like such an appealing prospect that it made her heart ache.

And yet…could she really turn her back on the threat that was obviously lurking here? Was her personal safety really worth allowing this evil plot, whatever it was, to grow unchecked like a festering sore? Hard though it was for her to accept the thought, it might actually be for the best that she had been abducted and brought here; now she had a chance to make a difference, to strike back against the arrogant clique that had decided it was their right to crush mankind under their boot heel. They would certainly never expect her to return – not after she had just so narrowly escaped. And when all was said and done, her newfound brilliance gave her a responsibility. She no longer had the luxury of thinking only of herself; she had the capacity for far greater things now. The world _needed _her.

There was only one thing to do, then – stay and fight. But first, she must let her friends know that she was safe.

"May I use your phone?" she asked. Hers had been confiscated when she was abducted. "It's a long-distance call – I hope that's all right."

"Be my guest."

It took long minutes and several frustrated connections before she was put through to the Shapiros' home.

"Mrs. Shapiro! It's Cat! Yeah, it's great to hear your voice too. Could you put Robbie on?"

She could scarcely believe what she heard next.

"He's coming _here_?" she shrieked into the receiver.

This could be a disaster. All thoughts of a counteroffensive against her captors were shoved into the background. First things first: she must get to Robbie and the gang and warn them to return home, before they themselves became targets.

With a hurried cry of "Goodbye! Thanks for everything!", she blew past a startled Akalp and sprinted into the distance.

/

Jade and Beck walked through the city in the fading daylight, carrying bags laden with takeout – hot lamb sandwiches with roasted peppers, the delicious scent of which mingled with the odor from the orange blossoms that lined the avenue. It was all they could do to keep themselves from tearing into the food right then and there and leaving nothing for their friends back at the hotel, shameful though that would have been.

"I'll say one thing for this country – they know how to cook," said Jade. "But what's the deal with serving scorching hot tea at noon in the summer? That's just…freaky."

"Oh, you're just mad because you got your tongue burned and you had to go a whole afternoon without insulting Tori," Beck teased. Jade gave him an elbow to the ribs, which only made him grin more broadly.

They turned off the broad avenue into a narrow, dingy alley, filled with trash cans and masked in twilight shadow. After a moment, Jade said slowly: "Tell me honestly, Beck. Do you think Cat is still alive?"

Beck's smile was swiftly exchanged for a look of fierce determination. "Yes. Yes, I really do. And I'm not just saying that to make you feel better, I swear to you. Whoever took her must have done so for a reason – probably to get some knowledge out of her. Killing her would just be shooting themselves in the foot."

"I want to believe you. But – God, I'm so scared for her." The tears began to sting Jade's eyes, and she quickly turned away to hide her face. Beck put a comforting arm around her shoulder.

"It's _yourselves_ you should be scared for," came a disembodied voice from the darkness.

They whirled. At the same moment, a powerful fist struck Beck across the jaw. He fell backwards; the containers he held spilled open.

Jade didn't even have time to scream before the faceless assailant seized her in a chokehold. She felt a steel knifepoint pressed against the small of her back.

"Let her go!" Beck yelled.

"You're not really in a position to give orders, are you, _pretty boy?_" As the man pushed Jade forward into the light, the reason for his sneering emphasis on the last two words became apparent: his face was horribly scarred.

"You see this? This is your friend Caterina's handiwork. Thanks to her, I'm going to have small children fleeing from me in terror for the rest of my life."

"If Cat did that to you," gasped Jade, "I'm betting you had it coming."

"Dear God, I'm so _very_ tired of little girls mocking me." He tightened his hold, cutting off Jade's voice. "Now, here's what's going to happen. Beck – that is your name, isn't it? – you're going to go to your hotel and wait with your friends until Caterina contacts you. She's a smart girl – she'll figure out where you are soon enough. When you hear from her, you'll tell her that I have her best friend, and if she ever wants to see her alive again, she'd better come meet me. _Alone._ The shore of Lake Marsyas. Two days from now. 7:00 A.M. Not a minute later. Is that understood?"

"If you hurt Jade, you're dead," spat Beck.

"That is _not_ relevant to this conversation. Now, I won't ask again: _do you understand what I am telling you to do?_"

At last, Beck sighed: "Yes."

"Good boy."

With Jade still in his clutches, he vanished into the shadows, as Beck cried out in impotent rage.

/

The panicked Canadian boy ran through the foyer of his hotel like a whirlwind, pushed past the startled bellhops, and, not bothering to wait for the elevator, sprinted up the stairs to the fifth floor.

"Guys!" he cried as he burst into the suite he and his friends shared. "They took Jade! We have to-"

He froze in his tracks.

Cat Valentine stood in the middle of the room.

"We have to get her back," Cat said simply. "And, rest assured, we will."


	8. Early Morning Rendezvous

**Disclaimer: As ever, don't own.**

Except for the occasional bleating of a sheep or goat, or the exultant cry of a hungry hawk far above that had spotted a field mouse, there was no sound in the low hills surrounding Lake Marsyas. As the rising sun heated the water, a gentle breeze began to blow over the lake, rippling its surface and distorting the strange sight below: rows of columns and paving stones, lined up in perfect order. Once these had been the ruins of a Roman city, until the river was dammed and the lake expanded, submerging them. It was a quiet scene, timeless and eerie.

Not even the man known as Psi dared break the silence. He simply stood, still, watchful, in the tall reeds that fringed the lake, fingers gripping his Glock tightly. As for Jade, who lay bound on the ground at his feet, she _could_ not break the silence, thanks to the duct tape over her mouth. Only her wide eyes conveyed the terror she felt.

Desperately she tried to beam her thoughts toward Cat. _Don't come! It's a trap! He'll kill you!_

But it was all in vain. Far in the distance she could see the little redhead clambering, step by arduous step, up the road that led from the valley below to the lake. As Psi had demanded, Cat was alone, and she carried nothing with her save a backpack.

_No, no, Cat, don't…please don't…run…_ Jade began to weep.

But Cat appeared entirely undaunted. On the contrary, as she came close enough for the torturer and his prisoner to make out her facial expression, they were both surprised to see that Cat actually seemed _cheerful_. Indeed, once she had crested the slope and recovered her breath, she actually began to whistle. "Turkey in the Straw", Jade realized. _What the __**hell?**__ Does she really have no idea what's about to happen? Or does she not care?_

"Hi, Jadey! Hiya, Mr. Torture Man!" Cat waved.

"You're pretty goddamn flippant, considering I could blow your friend here's brains out at any moment."

"But that would be so _mean_. What did Jade ever do to you?" The little redhead stared at him blankly – so blankly, in fact, that Jade began to wonder whether her intelligence boost had somehow been undone.

Psi, on the other hand, was not so easily fooled. "I'm really not in the mood to play games, Caterina. Put the backpack down and walk toward me. Slowly."

"Okey-dokey." With exaggerated care, Cat slipped the pack off, placed it on the ground, and began to unzip it.

"Hey!" Psi cocked his pistol and pressed it against Jade's temple. "I didn't say to open it, you little brat!"

"Oh, you didn't? Oopsy-doodle. I just thought you might like to see what was inside it." She peeled down the front flap of the pack. Jade's eyes widened still further, and had it not been for the gag, she would have gasped.

It was Cat's miniature black hole.

The torturer eyed it warily, not comprehending quite what it was, but obviously sensing that it was dangerous. "What the hell do you think you're playing at? If that's a bomb, I swear to God I'll put a bullet in Jade's brain right here and now."

"A _bomb_?" Cat began to laugh, a dry, bitter laugh, and her façade of silliness vanished. "I take it your employers didn't tell you much about that 'source of infinite energy' they wanted you to extract from me. This is it, Mr. Scarface, right here. The answer to the fossil fuel crisis, all in a tiny little box. Let Jade go, and it's all yours."

He looked quickly from her to the tiny, whirling dark mass, then back to her face. "I don't believe you. You're trying to put one over on me."

Cat shrugged. "Okay, fine. If you want to turn your back on the greatest scientific innovation since the wheel, be my guest. But I'm guessing your employers won't be too happy when they find out what a chance you missed. Especially since you already screwed up once by letting me escape."

Her words had clearly rattled him. His iron grip on his gun began to waver; he looked again at the mysterious box. His brow furrowed.

"Well?" asked Cat. "I don't have all day."

_How can she be so nonchalant?_ Jade wondered again.

"…All right." He dragged Jade to her feet with his free hand, then pushed her toward Cat. Once Jade was safely in the little redhead's arms, he raised his weapon again. "Now both of you, back the hell away."

They complied. Cat pulled out a pocketknife and cut Jade's hands free, then pulled the tape from her mouth with a single swift movement. As she did so, she whispered: "Get behind me."

"But, why-"

"Just do it, Jade."

Jade thought she had never seen so serious a look on her normally happy-go-lucky friend's face, and she did not dare disobey. Hurriedly she slipped behind Cat.

Psi stepped sideways in front of the box, never once taking his eyes off the two girls or lowering his gun. "I guess I owe you thanks, Caterina. With this – whatever it is, exactly – my employers can finally complete their plans, and – shall we say – 'shake things up' a bit. And then a glorious new day will dawn for mankind."

He took careful aim at her chest. "Unfortunately, you won't be around to see it."

"You're still going to kill me, even after I gave you what you wanted?"

He laughed. "Of course I am, you little _twit_. You scarred my face. You embarrassed me in front of my fellow operatives. You ruined my _life_. I never had any intention of letting you leave here alive. Honestly, I would have thought that someone as brilliant as you're supposed to be would have realized that."

"As it happens, I did." And, with a huge grin, Cat clicked her right heel twice in quick succession against the dirt, activating a concealed radio transceiver.

For precisely one one-millionth of a second, the magnetic field enclosing the all-devouring black hole dropped. It was far too little time for the man called Psi even to realize what was happening, let alone to pull the trigger; but it was more than enough time for his helpless body to be sucked in by the hole's inexorable gravitational pull and crushed into an unfathomably tiny, unfathomably dense mass of matter. To the astonished Jade, it was as if he had instantaneously and soundlessly vanished from existence.

"How…how did you…"

"Later." Cat was suddenly all grim determination – it almost frightened Jade. "We've got other business to attend to now."

"What do you mean?"

"Thanks to our late and unlamented friend's loose tongue, I now know for certain what his employers are up to. And we're going to stop it."

Without another word, she retrieved a wireless earpiece from her pocket and placed it in her ear. "B. A. R. T&T. This is C. Threat neutralized. J is safe.

"Operation Storm the Castle is a go."


	9. Trojan Horse

**A/N: Only one more chapter to go after this. (It'll be a brief epilogue.)**

**Disclaimer: As ever, don't own.**

Many cameras and many eyes watched as a man toting a small steel box approached the front door of the "car factory". Biometric scans were run; in all respects – height, weight, facial features – the newcomer was found to match the operative known as Psi. Silently a word flashed on a computer screen: ADMIT. A switch was flicked; the doors slid open.

The director of the operation – code name Alpha Prime – approached Psi. "You have it?"

"I do." He held up the black hole in its magnetic cage. "I don't understand it, but I have it."

"Well done. Perhaps you're not entirely worthless after all."

Alpha Prime watched Psi's face carefully, expecting him to snarl in anger – the expert torturer's temper was well-known, and goading him was something of a popular sport. But much to the director's surprise, Psi's expression remained unchanged. Only his eyes flickered from side to side, nervously.

"Something the matter?"

"No. No, forgive me."

There was a curious undercurrent of distortion in Psi's voice, as if someone were subtly pinching his throat. Alpha Prime raised an eyebrow. "You seem a bit…off."

"It was that girl. Killing her – I didn't like it. I know we had to have this-" he nodded at the box- "but still…"

"Funny. You've never shown any moral objections to killing youngsters before."

"First time for everything, I guess."

Alpha Prime puzzled for a moment over his operative's strange behavior, then decided to let it pass. After all, Psi had been behaving irrationally ever since the girl scarred his face and humiliated him. Perhaps it was time, thought Alpha, for Psi to take a vacation. A_ long_ vacation – complete with memory scrub. The organization couldn't afford to have its best interrogator crippled by emotion.

He carried the box through the labyrinthine hallways toward the central core. Psi followed.

At last they arrived at the heart of the complex. An immense diamond drill stood perched, tip downward, over a pit of earth. Around it technicians manned banks of computers, carefully checking and re-checking seismic data as it poured in from monitors beneath the soil.

"This is truly a great day," said Alpha Prime, as Psi stared goggle-eyed at the tremendous apparatus. "No power source on Earth was adequate for our needs – until this moment. Soon the Apocalypse Drill will bore into the earth, wresting open fault lines, bringing up magma from the Earth's core, and generating a wave of earthquakes and volcanic eruptions that will tear outward from Anatolia across both Europe and Asia. The eastern Mediterranean will be closed to shipping for decades to come. Oil shipments through the Bosporus will be impossible. Worldwide economic collapse will ensue. And, out of the chaos, _we_ will rise, to remake humanity in our image!"

With a few swift gestures, he connected a series of electrodes to the magnetic cage. Two technicians then moved it into the line of fire of a proton accelerator.

"You see, my friend, when fed with a continuous stream of mass, the black hole will generate a massive power differential between its environs and the event horizon. The Apocalypse Drill will tap into that energy." He smiled. "It's almost a pity you couldn't bring young Caterina here alive to see this. It would be a thing of beauty indeed, to see the look on her face when she realized just what her discovery was capable of." Turning to the technician at the console behind him, he yelled, "Activate proton gun!"

With a whirr and a flash of light, the strange weapon began to release its subatomic payload. The greedy singularity consumed it, and as it did so, the great diamond-tipped drill head began to turn, slowly at first, then faster and faster.

Alpha Prime laughed like a madman. "Victory is ours! At long last, we have…WHAT?"

For, to his utter amazement, the drill head was now not merely spinning, but tilting on its axis as well. Rather than pointing toward the soil, it was aimed directly at the main console.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Stop redirecting it!" he screamed at the operator.

The man threw up his hands in despair. "But, sir, I'm not doing _anything_! We've lost control of the guidance systems!"

The drill, now spinning so swiftly that it was nothing but a blur, advanced menacingly.

"Run! Run for your lives!" Alpha Prime cried. And he himself dived for cover, in such a panic that he barely had time to wonder where Psi had suddenly disappeared to.

With a mighty roar, the deadly drill bit sheared the console in two, and plunged into the wall behind it. All throughout the complex hapless workers and soldiers were sent sprawling in terror, blinded by the whirlwind of dust and powder that the drill threw up, deafened by its noise. The factory generator failed; the lights flickered into nothingness, and the cameras that kept every inch of the surrounding plateau under surveillance went dark. Yet the drill continued remorselessly forward: the power from the black hole was sufficient now to drive the very proton gun that fed it, in an endless loop.

At last the drill reached the outer wall of the factory. As it ruptured the solid steel girders, sunlight poured in.

Alpha Prime looked frantically about him. All his workers had fled; it was up to him to shut down the apparatus. He took a deep breath, then leapt from cover and, dodging glass shards falling from the ceiling high above, darted across the chamber. With shaking hands he yanked loose the electrodes from the steel box.

The proton gun fell silent. Deprived of mass to nourish it, the black hole sank into inertness. Outside on the plateau, the drill bit slowed and ground to a halt, as awestruck goatherds watched from below.

Alpha lay on the floor, panting, trying to catch his breath. A shadow fell over him: Psi. Alpha was filled with sudden rage. "And just where the hell were you? What were you thinking, leaving me to risk my life?"

Calmly, with a mirthless smile on his face, the other man reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a taser. "Call it payback for the way you treated my friends."

A horrid realization struck Alpha Prime as he stared into the electrical arc of the taser's prongs. "You're not Psi."

"Guess you really are a supergenius." There was a blue crackle; Alpha's limbs convulsed, then he lay still.

"Psi" pulled off the stiflingly hot latex mask he wore, removed the electronic voice changer from his throat, and stepped out of the platform shoes that had allowed him to match the height of the man he was impersonating. He stood revealed as Andre Harris.

Inserting an earpiece, he said one word, the first Turkish word Cat Valentine had taught him:

"Saldırınız."

_Attack._

Through the fissure in the factory wall ran detachment after detachment of heavily armed Turkish police in full body armor. As the still dazed mercenary guards attempted to organize themselves for a resistance, flash grenades fell from the ventilation shafts above, dazzling their eyes. A moment later smoke grenades followed, taking their breath away. Coughing, teary-eyed, they were easily rounded up.

The air ducts opened, and the lithe figures of Cat Valentine, Tori Vega, Trina Vega and Jade West slipped to the ground.

/

The rural scene was idyllic no more. Hundreds of prisoners were thrust into squad cars and police vans, as radios crackled with messages and sirens blared. The goats and their herders kept a respectful distance, looking up occasionally at the curls of smoke from the ruined factory.

On the other side of the dusty road, the little group from Hollywood Arts grinned as the man known as Alpha Prime was led off in handcuffs and shackles.

"I'll make you pay for this! All of you!" His eyes fixated on Cat with a look of death. "You most of all. God _damn_ you, Cat Valentine."

"Well, I'm sure you'll get your chance once you're released from prison. Which should be, oh, about never."

"GrrAGH!" The brilliant mind behind the plot to destroy the world was reduced to a howl of animalistic rage as the police car door slammed shut behind him.

"Okay, Cat," said Robbie as he held her tight, "explain to me exactly_ how_ you took control of their death machine?"

"Before I went to sleep last night I improvised an electron microscope and encoded a nanovirus into the molecular structure of the Faraday cage. Simple, really."

"Uh, yeah. 'Simple'." Robbie chuckled. "Have I ever told you that you're absolutely freaking amazing?"

"Once or twice." She pressed her lips against his, and then whispered into his ear:

"But I can always stand to hear it again."


	10. Epilogue: One Small Step

**A/N: Stay tuned after the epilogue for a special announcement.**

_Ten years later_

A gentle thump was the only sign that Cat had landed. The fusion engine she had designed was running so smoothly that the journey had been no more unpleasant than a Sunday drive in the car – and almost as short, too.

She took a deep breath. Even though she had prepared for this day for months without cease, running simulations and planning for every possible scenario, still her nerves tingled with fearful anticipation.

There was nothing to do now but wait for the call, for there was no force in the universe that could make her begin her mission before the call came. Even though she knew that it would come any minute – it was only a matter of aligning the wormhole properly to allow instantaneous signal transmission across the vast distance – still every passing second felt like an eternity.

At long, long last, Robbie's face flickered into view on the monitor. Cat saw, with a thrill of joy, that he was holding a certain someone in his arms.

"Hi, baby!" she said, waving.

"MOMMY! YAY!"

"How are you doing? Is Daddy treating you right?"

"Me love Daddy…" Susannah wrapped her arms around a grinning Robbie's neck.

"Yeah, me too," said Cat with a wink.

"When Mommy come home?"

"It'll be a little while, sweetheart."

Susannah's face fell. "But me want have ice cream with Mommy."

"Oh, we will. Any flavor you want."

"Yay! Nee-polu-tan!"

"Neapolitan it is."

"You be careful out there, okay?" said Robbie softly.

"Oh, Robbie. Somehow I don't think I'm going to be attacked by little green men."

"Well, you never know…"

"You're never going to stop being a worrywart, are you?"

"Not where you're concerned, no."

Cat shook her head and chuckled. "All right. I promise I'll keep on high alien alert."

Robbie breathed a mock sigh of relief. "Do you have your co-pilot with you?"

"Always."

"In that case – go get 'em, angel."

"Roger that. Bye-bye, Susannah."

"Byeeee!"

The screen went dark. Cat turned to her co-pilot, who wore a specially tailored helmet and reflective suit for the occasion.

"Well, Mr. Longneck, here we go."

On went her own helmet. Then, with her childhood friend safely tucked under one arm, she unscrewed the hatch and stepped out onto the dusty red soil of Mars.

Walking was slightly awkward in the low gravity, and it took her a few moments to adjust; but at last she got her bearings and was able to stand, looking across the gulf of space at the small, steadily shining light that was the planet Earth. Memories flooded into her mind of the days when she was completely scatterbrained, when she could do nothing for herself and was dependent on her friends' indulgence to make it through daily life. Those memories felt as if they rightly belonged to someone else, a completely different person in another, unfathomably distant lifetime. And in a way, she realized, that feeling was justified. For the fact was that, the moment that a freak power surge transformed her mind, Cat Valentine had been reborn. And even now, a decade later, every moment of this new life felt like a glorious gift.

She smiled, tilted her head back to view the full panorama of the starry Martian sky, and spoke words no other human being could hear:

"That's one small step for a girl – and a giraffe – one giant leap for mankind."

_END_

**Okay, now that special announcement:**

**As I did once before, I'm opening up to a vote which story idea I'll tackle next. Feel free to let me know in your reviews which you prefer. **

_**Night and the City**_

Los Angeles, 1952. Movie star Ryder Daniels is murdered, just hours after a very public fight with his ex, nightclub singer Tori Vega. The police are certain that Tori's current boyfriend, pianist André Harris, is the killer. Now Andre's facing the electric chair, and to save him Tori must turn to the last person she ever wanted to see again: her estranged sister Trina, LA's first female private eye.

_**Lady With a Star**_

Arizona Territory, 1866. The town of Devil's Spur is a haven for the flotsam and jetsam of the Earth: alcoholic drifters, embittered ex-Confederate soldiers, desperate fugitives from justice, and, worst of all, the notorious bandit gang known as the Golden-Haired Boys. In the last year five sheriffs have had their careers ended prematurely, some ridden out of town on a rail, some carried out in a pine box. In a desperate bid to curb the chaos, the Governor sends in his right-hand woman, Trina Vega. At first the citizens of Devil's Spur only laugh at their new female sheriff and her bookish deputy, Robbie Shapiro, but they soon learn Trina isn't to be underestimated, as she launches a whirlwind campaign to stamp out crime and corruption. Yet even she may have met her match in the leader of the Golden-Haired Boys – a ruthless criminal mastermind by the name of Jade West.


End file.
